"True," she said in mock seriousness. "Can't rule out any other, err, possibilities."

After all, how often would she get to stop in at one of the most famous museums in the world?

--------------------

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do with you," Kathy Kramer said with a sigh, sparing a glance at her unruly son seated at the kitchen table. "You can't just say whatever you like to people. That's what got you suspended from school in the first place!"

The young boy scowled at his mother as she continued with her baking, then went back to his comic, kicking his legs carelessly back and forth at the table.

Who cares what other people thought? Girls were stupid. They let stuff scare them too easily. It wasn't his fault.

His mom though... she was just a bother.

Kathy turned to the pantry and removed a bag of salt, then rummaged about for the flour. Well, her husband wasn't going to be too pleased with this latest news. Clearly, they weren't disciplining their son properly.

Kathy found the flour, set the package on the counter, and stole a glance at the table. Henry, however, was no longer there.

"Henry?"

She turned, and a scream tore from her throat at the sight of her son, glassy-eyed and pale like death, staring up at her with an axe in hand. Startled, she smacked the container of salt off the counter, and it burst on the floor in front of her, showering Henry's feet and legs in salt.

Instantly, the boy screamed and fell to the ground, vapor pouring off of him as though he were melting, the axe vanishing from his hand like mist.

"H-Henry..?" she gasped, inching forward.

"Mommy..." the boy whined, his eyes beginning to fill with tears. Kathy dropped to his side, pulling her son tenderly to her as her mind tried to make sense of what had just happened.

--------------------

"I think we're plum outta luck."

Ava and Aurora sat in the booth of a diner near their motel, with the former helping herself to a large burger, fries, and shake. A bright red laptop was open in front of her, and she was mindlessly shoving fries into her mouth as she scanned the page.

"Says here that Lizzie Borden lived and died in Massachusetts. That's a long drive to burn a body. Probably not what she's using to stay tethered to this world anyway, if it is her ghost. Too far a distance."

Ava took a big chomp of her hamburger and sighed. Werewolves and wendigos and other beasts were tangible and straightforward. Ghosts... Well, this would be the crash-course she needed, it seemed.

Aurora just brooded in front of her fully loaded hashbrowns. "So it seems it's the axe. God knows stealing it from the museum is out of the question unless necessary. We need to somehow find out more about it. Why is it doing this? Maybe Lizzie was innocent, and the axe was the same back then? ... Which would make it even harder to find out what it is. Ah... what about a weapon that controls its wielder? ... Probably not. After all, the Axe somehow found its way to someone else... Maybe it's just a ghost using the axe as a cover? I'll check if there were any Freddy Krueger types that died recently." Of course Nightmare on Elm Street was still relevant. It's a classic. Aurora wasn't outdated with her examples at all! She worked away at her own laptop.

"It must be the parent angle though, right? I mean...." she said drifting off. Lizzie Borden had been pissed at her parents, and she killed them. Jennifer had been made at her parents the night they died.

"Ghosts... ghosts are tied to emotions, yeah?" Ava continued thoughtfully. "If it can link itself to similar emotions..."

That would explain its targets, of course, and maybe even how it was possessing them. But it didn't tell them how to get rid of it.

"Maybe we should contact the MoL," Ava suggested, not entirely happy with the idea. "If it is latching on to one of the objects in that display, they might know how to get at it."

Aurora nodded. "Something that doesn't involve breaking into a national treasury of relics would be best. I'm not exactly a Master Thief." She slumped back into her seat, stirring her hash browns. "If the men of letters don't have anything on this... Then I suppose we can just abuse our 'authority.' 'The murder weapon, which was not found at the scene of the crime and doesn't seem like something you'd find in a house, could in fact be something on display for everyone to see.' Something like that would probably give the Chief the right amount of thrills to let us go ahead and investigate the Axe."

Deciding they would call the Men of Letters once they'd returned to the motel, Ava and Aurora started to make their way back, passing by the police station as they did so. Ava stole a glance over at the station, only to recognize the woman and her child emerging from it. The woman seemed badly shaken, and it only took a moment for Ava's instincts to kick in.

"Pull in," she told Aurora briskly, fishing for their badges. The car pulled up alongside the woman, and Ava quickly rolled down the window to address her.

"You're..." the woman murmured, looking puzzled as she recognized them from the museum.

The woman looked flustered and unsure as she stole a glance back at the station.

"They don't believe me. I'm not even sure..." she said, trailing off.

"Why don't you try us?" Ava prompted, smiling grimly.

--------------------

"You think I'm crazy," Kathy said.

They had returned to her home, and she'd offered both women a mug of coffee. After recounting the incident for the two of them, she waited expectantly for their reaction, her son sitting silently beside her. Ava noticed he seemed far more withdrawn than before, no doubt shaken from being possessed.

"'Course not, ma'am," Ava replied, nodding. She stole a glance at Aurora, wondering how best to proceed with this. She'd never had to deal with outsiders being broken into a world they didn't know existed.

Aurora just calmly sipped from her mug. It was news, but it didn't help. They still knew nothing. An axe that could be summoned, and behaved like a ghost? The best they could do was use someone as bait then salt and burn it, but that wasn't even close to good enough. After all, after salt was used, it just... escaped. Like a Demon. ... Angels had their weapons. Maybe Demons had weapons too, long ago?

... No, now she was just extrapolating. It was probably something much simple. But it didn't help that she didn't know what it was. "Well, thank you for your time. Truth is often stranger than fiction, so we'll get to the bottom of this. We could always keep watch, if you feel insecure."

"Don't worry, ma'am," Ava said reassuringly. "You and your son will be all right."

She motioned to Aurora, and the two stood and moved into the hallway.

"Look, it's dusk already, and that thing will probably be coming back to finish the job," she said, speaking quickly. "And the museum is going to close soon. One of us is going to have to sneak in and take care of that axe. The other will need to stay here and keep these two safe."

She jerked a thumb back toward the kitchen, indicting the mother and son.

"So, which one do you want to take?" Ava asked, leaving the decision to the other girl. "Make up your mind fast."

"Well I'd rather stay here and protect them than break into a national museum... But are you sure you'll be okay alone?" Concerned. Well, somewhat so. It wasn't that Aurora doubted she could do it. It was just the possibility of 'what if you get caught.' Impersonating a fedral agent to steal something from the museum... ahhh, the headlines were so easy to imagine.

It was a sad day when handling a ghost was preferable to stealing something, but it had to be done.

--------------------

Darkness rolled around, and the house was eerily quiet. In the living room, Kathy and her son sat on chairs in the middle of the room, a ring of salt surrounding them.

The boy had said very little, merely whining occasionally like a sick puppy for his mother's touch. Kathy, on the other hand, was very white, but stood poker straight, poised for anything. Though she was undoubtedly frightened, she seemed determined to be strong for her son.

Suddenly, the lights began to dim, then flicker. The boy flinched and cowered closer to his mother, whose eyes widened as her breath began to come out in foggy patches.

"Oh god, oh god," she murmured, holding her son tightly to her.

Suddenly, like a static flicker, a person appeared in the room. Deathly pale, eyes sunken and haunting, it stared at them with murderous intention, not dressed in the fashions of days gone by, but in very modern jeans, t-shirt, and jacket.

This ghost was not at all what they had anticipated. Very modern, and very male.

--------------------

Ava sat outside the Smithsonian, steeling her nerves as she picked out her badge and the other things she would need.

Matches, lighter fluid... maybe she could pretend she was an arsonist if she were caught. Did that carry a lesser sentence than robbery? She couldn't be sure.

Aurora still had no idea what this was or what 'this' wanted. The appearance of an unknown apparition only made these apprehensions grow. She had small bags of rock salt on hand to throw, but Aurora was Aurora and the first thing she did was try to reason. Or rather, inquire.

"Who are you, what do you want, and why?"

Meanwhile a hand behind her back pulled out her cellphone and speed-dialed Ava's number.

The ghost regarded Aurora silently for a moment, giving her just enough time to relay the truth to Ava before he thrust his arm aside, hurtling her across the room to crash into the fireplace, her phone dashing to pieces on the hard brick.

Kathy and her son screamed as the spirit turned his attention to them, moving closer to regard the salt circle. Then his eyes flickered to the window, and it smashed open in a shower of glass, bring a chill wind sweeping into the room. The hair of the ghost seemed to ruffle, revealing a raw axe wound in the middle of his head. Both mother and child watched, terrified, as the salt was brushed aside under the gust of air.

Then, it was gone.

Kathy hardly dared to believe it. Could it have left?

Suddenly, she was thrust to the ground, her head smacking the edge of the coffee table, as Henry loomed over. Dizzy, she tried to look around, catching sight of the deathly pale skin and milky-white eyes, as Henry's small arms rose into the air, holding a very large, very sharp axe.

--------------------

Little Lizzie was a dud, it seemed.

Ava let loose a continuous chorus of swears that would have made a sailor blush as her fingers pounded the keys on her laptop.

Should have listened to Aurora. Should have checked out all alternatives before fixating on the obvious choice. Amateurish. Foolish.

And now Aurora was getting the tar beat out of her trying to stop a ghost they weren't prepared for.

Male, late teens to early twenties, deceased, violent death.

Brandon Shaw. Bingo.

He'd died only a few months ago. His mother had walked out on him as a kid, and he had walked in on his father fornicating with his girlfriend. In a blind rage at the betrayal, Brandon had gone down to the shed, taken an axe, and killed his father. The girlfriend, who had escaped in the turmoil, brought the police down on Brandon, but he'd put the axe to his own head in grief.

No wonder his spirit was so vengeful. That was a lot of parental betrayal to swallow. And now he was taking it out on any parents that made their children unhappy.

"Sorry, Brandon," Ava said, tossing her laptop into her passenger seat and hitting the gas. "But two wrongs don't make a right."

Aurora was sending the pouches of rocksalt flying, the small thing bags bursting open on contact. She got in front of the mother. "You didn't happen to know who that is, do you? A recent murder where someone got an AX TO THE HEAD?"

The ghost, which had recoiled with angry wails at the contact with the rock salt, began to tremble with rage, the lights flickering worse than ever before dying out.

Now, with the room quite dark beside the moonlight streaming through the broken window, the ghost suddenly lunged for Aurora, swinging the axe at her temple.

--------------------

Ava skidded to a halt in front of the graveyard, grateful than no one seemed to be around at this time of night. Unfortunately, despite her good time in making it there, she knew quite well that it would take ages to dig up a grave. By then...

Cursing, she looked around, spotting some construction equipment at the pharmacy being built across the street. Biting her lip, Ava nodded and hurried across, already reviewing the steps her daddy taught her for wilderness survival.

"Rule Number 9: Make sure you can use a car if you lose your keys," she reminded herself, hopping into the seat of the large digger. In other words, hot wiring.

The engine came to life, and Ava let out a muffled whoop as she pushed the vehicle into gear, crossing the road toward the graveyard with reckless abandon. She spied the grave a little ways in and set to work, mercilessly tearing up the earth to unveil the coffin.

Aurora jumped foward, the shaft of the axe hitting her on the shoulder. It'd probably dislocated it, but she needed to deal with this first. Making as if to grab the axe from the possessed child, she instead flipped around him and picked him up from behind, under his armpits. Ghosts may have super-strength, but they couldn't change their weight or the body. Like this, he couldn't chop anyone with the axe. He could struggle though, and Aurora only hoped that Ava was doing what needed to be done.

The ghost thrashed violently in Aurora's arms, trying to loosen himself. Then, all at once, he stilled and stiffened. Suddenly, Aurora was thrown back against the wall, and the nearby table overturned and smacked into her, pinning her helplessly against the wall.

With a crash, Ava pried open the boards of the coffin and stared in at the corpse, never feeling so relieved to stare at a dead body. In her haste, she nearly dropped the container of salt as she hastily spread in through the box, then topped it off with lighter fluid.

"Rest in peace, Brandon," she said, lighting the match and tossing it into the box.--------------------

The boy stopped suddenly, then staggered back, as though having a seizure. Suddenly, a white fog seemed to pour out from every pore of his body, forming that of a young man, who thrashed as his form was suddenly consumed by spectral flames, encompassing him in a white blaze that vanished as soon as it had appeared.

Henry pitched forward into his mother, unconscious, but unharmed and breathing soundly. Kathy just held him and sobbed, unsure if her tears were ones of terror or relief.

--------------------

As morning rolled around, Ava and Aurora packed their bags and loaded them into their respective vehicles. They had made sure that Kathy and Henry were, indeed, safe and unharmed before leaving. Ava had warned them not to spread any of this, but as Kathy had replied, "Who would believe it anyway?"

"Well, that sure was somethin'," Ava remarked, tossing her bags carelessly into the back of the old Ford. "Now I know why my daddy stuck to werewolves."

Sighing, she turned to face Aurora and smiled.

"Well, it was nice workin' with ya," she said, holding out a hand. "Sorry I nearly screwed things up, but we made a pretty good team."

The job was done, and thankfully no more victims had been claimed. While her arm had indeed been dislocated, Ava had been kind enough to reset it. All Aurora could do was whimper from the pain.

In the morning they met up once more. Aurora nodded in agreement. "It is a lot easier when you can just shoot the thing..." Aurora didn't mention the bruises the child had were from when she pelted him with rocksalt sacks. She was feeling guilty enough already.

Aurora smiled back and offered her hand. "Yeah, thanks. I'm glad you... well, thanks for jumping in full force. I would have never been able to do that."

... Possession. Some ghosts were capable of that, but they usually required the possessed to touch something important to the ghost. ... Maybe they would have caught on faster if Aurora still had Abraham's journal. But... that, and her sister were gone. She was still looking for them...